Saint Anselm of Canterbury and Charismatic Authority
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Religions 2014, 5, 90–108; doi:10.3390/rel5010090 OPEN ACCESS religions ISSN 2077-1444 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Article Saint Anselm of Canterbury and Charismatic Authority William M. Aird School of History, Classics and Archaeology, University of Edinburgh, William Robertson Wing, Old Medical School, Teviot Place, Edinburgh EH8 9AG, UK; E-Mail: [email protected]; Tel.: +44-031-650-9968 Received: 29 August 2013; in revised form: 17 December 2013 / Accepted: 20 December 2013 / Published: 10 February 2014 Abstract: The early career of Archbishop Anselm of Canterbury (c. 1033–1109) provides an opportunity to explore the operation of charismatic authority in a monastic setting. It is argued that the choice of Anselm for the archiepiscopal see of Canterbury in 1093 was the result of his growing reputation cultivated during his years as prior and abbot of the influential Norman monastery of Bec. The article explores various aspects of Anselm’s charismatic authority including his performance of charisma, the charisma derived from his fame as a scholar, and his reputation as a miracle-working holy man. Keywords: charisma; Weber; Anselm; Canterbury; Eadmer; monasticism; medieval 1. Introduction The election of Anselm (c. 1033–1109), abbot of the monastery of Bec in Normandy, to the archbishopric of Canterbury in the spring of 1093 was a violent affair ([1], pp. 49–71). According to contemporary sources, the majority of which were generated either by Anselm himself, members of his entourage or other later writers sympathetic to him, the abbot of Bec was in England on his monastery’s business and had arrived at the royal court in Gloucester to find the king, William Rufus (ruled 1087–1100), son of William the Conqueror (ruled 1066–1087), dangerously ill. It was thought that Rufus was about to die and the members of his court advised him to make his peace with God by releasing all prisoners, remitting fines, and freeing those churches whose revenues he had kept in his own hands after their incumbents had died. Above all he was urged to appoint an archbishop to Canterbury for, they said, ‘[t]he oppression of that Church is nothing less than the destruction of all Christianity in England, a thing most hateful’ ([2], pp. 31–32). Anselm was summoned to the king’s bedside and he too counselled Rufus to prepare his soul for its encounter with the Almighty. Anselm Religions 2014, 5 91 received the king’s confession and witnessed his pledge that he would make amends for the wrongs he had committed. The promise was written out and verified with the king’s seal. Rufus agreed to release prisoners, remit fines, pardon all offences, and provide his people with good and righteous laws. At this there was great jubilation and fervent prayers were offered for the recovery of ‘so good, so great a king’ ([2], p. 32). Finally, Rufus was urged to appoint an archbishop for Canterbury and he readily agreed to do so because, so he said, he had already been thinking of so doing. But who should be appointed? The king ‘of his own accord’ declared that the best man for the job was the abbot of Bec. At this Anselm ‘turned deathly pale’ with shock at the suggestion ([2], p. 32). Anselm protested that he did not want the office and he tried to resist ‘with all his might’. The bishops present, who had probably invested much in their advocacy of Anselm, took him to one side and remonstrated with him, pointing out that the English Church was in a state of crisis: ‘You see,’ they said, ‘that all Christianity in England has nearly died out, all has fallen into confusion; abominations of every kind have arisen on all sides, that we ourselves and the Churches of God, which we should rule have fallen into peril of eternal death through the tyranny of this man and do you then, when you could help, not deign to do so? What are you thinking of, you extraordinary man? Where are your wits to? [Quid O mirabilis homo cogitas? Quo fugit sensus tuus?] The Church of Canterbury, whose oppression is the oppression and ruin of us all, calls you, in her troubles implores you, to be her deliverer and ours; and do you, with little regard for her liberty, little regard too for our deliverance, refuse to share the labours of your brethren and care only for your own selfish ease and repose?’ Anselm admitted that there were indeed grave problems, but he pleaded that he was old and ‘unfit for worldly work’ ([2], pp. 32–33; [3], pp. 33–34). The abbot of Bec protested vehemently that he should not be appointed to Canterbury but the bishops dragged him to the king’s beside. Rufus, almost in tears, pleaded with Anselm to remember the friendship he had shown towards his parents and not let him die still holding the archbishopric of Canterbury for fear that this would condemn his soul to torment. Still Anselm refused. Those surrounding the king became angry and accused the abbot of Bec of abandoning a dying man and condemning England to future oppressions. Turning to two of his followers, the monks Baldwin and Eustace, Anselm asked their advice. In tears, Baldwin answered that if it was the will of God, Anselm should obey and at that moment Baldwin’s nose began to bleed ([2], pp. 33–34). The king instructed all those present to kneel at Anselm’s feet in a gesture of supplication, but Anselm also kneeled down and still refused. Finally, the crowd shouted for the pastoral staff to be brought and they bent back Anselm’s fingers when he closed his fist to resist their attempts to force it into his hands. The bishops held the staff against his fist and then he was carried off into a neighbouring church still loudly protesting his objections. He cried out: ‘Do you realize what you are trying so hard to do? You are trying to harness together at the plough under one yoke an untamed bull and an old and feeble sheep. And what will come of it? Why, without doubt the untameable fury of the bull will drag the sheep, which should produce wool and milk and lambs, this way and that through the thorns and the briars; and the bull, if it do not shake itself of the yoke altogether, will so tear the sheep that the sheep, unable to furnish any of these good things, will be of no use either to itself or anyone else. How so? You have thoughtlessly mated the sheep with the bull. [Quid ita? Inconsiderate ovem tauro copulastis.]’ ([2], pp. 35–36; [3], pp. 35–36). Religions 2014, 5 92 Anselm continued the metaphor to explain that the Church in England was a plough and that it should be pulled along by two equally matched oxen, namely the king and the archbishop of Canterbury, the one drawing the plough along by his human justice and sovereignty, the other by divine doctrine and authority ([4], pp. 29–45). What Anselm feared was that the young king’s ‘untameable fury’ would eventually destroy the feeble old sheep ([2], p. 36). Anselm’s dramatic ‘election’ as archbishop of Canterbury in 1093 marked the beginning of his turbulent relationships with successive kings of England, William Rufus and his younger brother Henry I (ruled 1100–1135), ([1], pp. 73–99; 125–66). In each case, Anselm felt obliged to go into exile, thereby abandoning his church to the depredations of the royal officers. Anselm’s election has been the subject of much debate and, from the late eleventh century onwards, questions have been raised as to the sincerity of Anselm’s opposition to his appointment. Soon after his elevation to the archdiocese of Canterbury, he felt it necessary to write to the monks of Bec giving his version of events as there were evidently rumours circulating that he had, in fact, wished for the appointment to the archiepiscopal see ([5], Volume IV, pp. 3–6; [6], Volume II, No. 148, pp. 7–11). An examination of Anselm’s career from his birth around 1033 in Aosta, now in Northern Italy, to the dramatic events of his election in April 1093, provides an opportunity to explore Anselm’s rise to prominence and whether using Weber’s model of charismatic authority can aid an interpretation of these events. Anselm’s monastic career also raises questions about the place of charisma in the monastery and the role it played in the creation and maintenance of abbatial authority. Given Anselm’s fame as an intellectual by 1093, the notion of academic charisma, understood in this context as the social capital and influence he derived from his reputation as a teacher, theologian and philosopher, might also be relevant here ([7], pp. 3–30). It is worth noting at the outset that the medieval sources for Anselm’s life and career display considerable bias in his favour and suggest that Anselm and his followers were careful to manage his public reputation. In addition, from Anselm’s own day forward, the conventions of medieval hagiography have influenced and continue to influence representations of the Archbishop [8,9]. These issues concerning the sources for a study of Anselm are addressed below. 2. Anselm and Charisma By the spring of 1093, Abbot Anselm of Bec enjoyed a considerable reputation and this influenced those who chose him as the new archbishop for Canterbury, a position vacant since the death of Lanfranc in May 1089 ([10], p. 225). Since 1078 he had been the abbot of Bec, arguably the most influential monastery in Normandy ([1], pp.